


Talking, Trying, and Failing

by HmmYesIDoIndeedWriteOnOccasion



Category: Invader Zim
Genre: Angst, Anxiety, Dib has anxiety train whoo whooo, Hurt/Comfort, Professor membrane is NOT understanding, Therapeutic stargazing, Unsupportive Parent, ZADF, Zim is trying okay, as usual folks, don’t care either way, he isn’t good at comforting people leave him be, or zadr if you want to take it that way
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-31
Updated: 2020-07-31
Packaged: 2021-03-06 06:21:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,643
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25628899
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HmmYesIDoIndeedWriteOnOccasion/pseuds/HmmYesIDoIndeedWriteOnOccasion
Summary: “Fine. Give me your…” he puts on an absurd british accent. “Expert advice.”Zim cackles, and after some lighthearted teasing begins to talk.In which Zim finds out Dib has anxiety, and tries very hard to help.
Relationships: Dib & Zim (Invader Zim), Dib/Zim (Invader Zim)
Comments: 12
Kudos: 95





	Talking, Trying, and Failing

**Author's Note:**

> Hello!! Please refer to the tags for triggers, in case unsupportive parents is a major trigger for you!!
> 
> Membrane stans I am so sorry

“And- I dunno, man…” Dib rambles, staring up at the clear night sky. 

It’s a crisp Winter’s night, and the stars are the clearest they’ve been all season. Dib, obviously, had to drag Zim out to a nice little field to stare at them. Zim has no idea why. They’re just stars, and he’s seen plenty of them.  
Some up far closer than was probably safe.  
They’re swaddled up in their best Winter attire, which for Dib consists of a slightly thicker shirt and his usual trench coat. Zim at least is prepared, swaddled in his biggest, thickest jumper. 

“... And it’s kinda like… Oh, I dunno… Like the world’s going to end any second now?? And it doesn’t even have anything to do with you, no offense, you’re totally still dangerous and whatnot. Anyway, so…” Dib continues his incessant rambling (it’s almost nervous, and Zim cannot fathom why) while Zim sprawls next to him, Dib’s feet dangerously close to the Irken’s head. He doesn’t trust Dib not to kick him, but he’s too comfortable to move. It’s like they’re making the letter ‘L’ with their bodies. Somewhere in Zim’s bored mind he thinks it would be funny, to try to spell something out of people. Maybe they would be seen from space. Maybe his Tallests would see. Would they like it?? 

“...Zim?” 

He’s thrown off for a second or so, but in proper Irken warrior fashion he quickly pushes past his unease at seeing _concern_ in the Dib-human’s face.

“Are you okay?? You looked kinda lost, for a second there.” He bumps Zim’s head with his foot and earns a very Zim-like hiss, so Dib guesses the alien mustn’t be too out of whack. 

“Zim is fine, you beast,” Zim says. Then, for good measure, he throws in “Your foot might not be, if you so much as _touch_ my beautiful head with your _horrible_ stinky stubs ever again.”

The human lets out a wobbly, watery sigh, and begins to shake.  
Zim shoots up, and twists himself around to be able to see Dib’s face. He’s not checking because he cares, or course. Just because he wants to see if the human is crying because of his _terrifying_ threats.  
Obviously.  
But Zim’s efforts are meaningless. Dib, embarrassed, had turned over to curl into himself. 

“Dib-human, Zim knows he is _terrifying_ and strikes _fear_ into the hearts of pitiful dirt worms like you…” Zim uses a clawed finger to gently tap at the human’s trembling arm. “But this is a little sudden.”

“I’m sorry, I just… God, I had a bad day. The sky was nice, i thought maybe this-” Dib gestures, vaguely, to the surrounding field. “Would cheer me up. And it hasn’t, and i’m sorry.”  
His voice sounds broken, and scratchy, and so impossibly _small._  
Zim decides that he prefers it loud and annoying. 

“What was so bad? What happened?” Zim is curious, of course. It’s only natural for him to want to know what was able to do so much damage to his human’s mental state. Maybe he should replicate it, interview it, steal it…

“Just… Annoying kids. Keep throwing things at me and saying stuff.” Dib lets out a tired, weak laugh. “I can handle an alien trying to kill me just fine, but I guess I can’t handle getting called mean names.”

Zim is suddenly so impossibly angry that it nearly surprises him.  
Before he can subtly and tactfully ask for the names and addresses of those _horrible little bags of scum,_ Dib sniffs and keeps talking.

“I feel like something’s wrong with me. I just can’t fit _in,_ you know? And they tease me, and _God_ it’s horrible. I have, like, no friends.” He uncurls a little, and looks down at the Irken that had perhaps scooched a little closer. “Except for you.”

Dib’s face, stained so obviously with emotion (yet another human flaw) strikes a chord somewhere in Zim’s ever constricting chest. He suddenly finds himself desperately wanting to be of comfort to the Dib.  
He is thoroughly disgusted by the thought, but tries anyway.

“Nothing is _wrong_ with you. I would have noticed this already. Here, i’ll scan your _stupid_ and _hideous_ head.”

Dib looks on, eyebrows knitted in confusion, as a device is fished out of Zim’s pak. It hovers over his head while Zim taps at the screen, casting a sickly and too-bright glow over the Irken’s smug face.

“See, you idiot worm-man!!” He crows, looking down at the screen.  
“You’re…” The pride is wiped off his face within a second, replaced by stunned surprise. “ _Fine._ ”

“What. What did you do to my head-”

“I- Zi- Wha- you have _anxiety_ and Zim never noticed?!” 

Dib winces at the abrupt change in volume, still just as confused as before.  
“I do?”

“According to this MRI scanner, yes,” Zim taps at the screen. “Irken tech is never wrong, you know.”

Dib whistles. “I… Wow. What do I do now, then?”  
The alien, retracting the scanning device back into his pack, skims through any resources he can find on the matter.

“Talk to a… parental unit?? That is what the Great Human Web says.”

“The internet”

“Do you want my expert advice, or are you going to keep picking holes in Zim’s _perfect_ english!?”  
Dib rolls his eyes, sighs heavily, and moves to rest his head in Zim’s lap. His ears might be shaved off his skull, but he can’t push past his post-breakdown weariness to care. 

“Fine. Give me your…” he puts on an absurd british accent. “ _Expert advice._ ”  
Zim cackles, and after some lighthearted teasing begins to talk. 

They both split up when the sun begins to rise. Dib with a plan, and Zim with a new, complicated understanding of Dib.

\-----------------------------------------------------------------------------

Dib swallows nervously, running over The Plan in his head. He clutches at the sheets of paper, holding hours of precious research.  
Maybe if he tells Professor Membrane what he’s found he won’t feel so alienated anymore. Maybe if he gives his Father a scientific explanation, he’ll understand. Maybe things won’t be so bad anymore. Maybe, maybe, maybe.  
He sucks in a deep breath, holds it, and steps into the Professor’s lab. 

Membrane stands, hunched, over a work table. Sparks flash and metal screams from beneath his tools, and Dib wants to turn around and run screaming back to his room.  
He could probably fight a bear with the amount of adrenaline in his body.

“Dad??” No reply. He tries again. And a third time. And a fourth.  
“DAD. HELLOOOOO. I HAVE SOMETHING IMPORTANT TO TELL YOU.”

Membrane looks up, dazed. “Oh, hello, boy-child.” his gaze falls to the paper in dib’s hands.  
“Have you come to show me a scientific report? Experiment results? Perhaps a scientific essay.”  
The hope in his voice makes Dib feel sick. He hopes the sweat on his hands hasn’t crept onto the paper.  
One shaky breath, and another, and Dib is talking. His voice is small, and it trembles, but he’s speaking.

“Dad, I have… I have anxiety. A…” He pauses, searching for the correct word, before deciding ‘screw it’. They’re basically friends at this point, aren’t they?  
“A friend got me scanned and everything. I thought,” Dib says, holding out the paper,”that it explained a lot.”

Professor Membrane gingerly takes the paper (sweaty, unfortunately, despite Dib’s desperate internal pleas) and flicks through them, eyebrows growing closer and closer together the longer the silence stretches. 

From what Dib can see of his Father’s mostly covered face, things aren’t going well.  
Dib is fairly certain he’s majorly screwed up when the Professor sighs heavily, lets the paper drift to the floor, and pinches the bridge of his nose.

“Well,” he says, “it isn’t _science._ ”

Dib honestly doesn’t know what he expected. Probably shouldn’t have expected anything.  
He nearly jumps at the growl in his Father’s voice when he continues, slowly, as if speaking to a toddler.

“You expect me to believe that something I _created…_ ” He gestures to Dib, “ _My clone,_ is imperfect? Has faults, flaws… years of research, and _this_ is what I get?”  
The silence stretches longer and longer, Dib too afraid to leave. To reply. To do anything but stand there and accept what he knew deep down was coming. 

“You’re _eccentric,_ ” Membrane says, softly, turning back to his work table. “Not whatever _this…_ ” He gestures to the scattered paper on the lab’s floor.  
“...is. _You’re crazy._ ” 

Crazy. Crazy. Crazy. 

He’s been called crazy before, sure, but never by Professor Membrane. Not once by his Father.

There’s a first for everything, Dib thinks, numbly picking up the pages upon pages of research from the floor. Membrane is no longer paying attention to him, but to whatever he’s making now. He walks, heavy, to his room. He closes the door, and doesn’t jump when he sees Zim sitting on his windowsill hopefully. His face falls when he sees Dib’s expression.

“Ah. I take it it didn’t go well?”  
He falls into the alien’s shoulder, sobbing, and the Irken tentatively put his arms around him.  
Zim sighs shakily, and lets his head rest on Dib’s.  
“Zim is sorry. Sorry. I shouldn’t have suggested it. Should have looked at the variables. It’s Zim’s fault.”

“No,” Dib manages to get out through his tears. “Not your fault.”

“He might not listen to you,” The arms around Dib tighten into a proper hug. “But Zim will. Don’t be sad. You’re stinky when you’re sad.”  
Dib smiles at that.  
“We can look at the stars again, if that will make you stink less.”  
“That’d be nice. Thanks.”  
“Don’t mention it,” Zim smirks, all teeth. They scramble gracelessly out of Dib’s window, towards the field, to gaze up and up and up at the stars Zim’s seen a thousand times over.  
The stars perhaps look a little prettier this time, Zim thinks.

**Author's Note:**

> Ahem ahem!! I bring you...  
> More angst!!  
> This is my first actual new work on here not just moved over from fanfiction.net, and I hope you like it!  
> Thanks for reading and stay safe!!


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